The Paradox of Powerlessness

I don’t know about you, but there are times when I really wish the Gospels included more information about Jesus’ disciples.  For example, wouldn’t it be interesting to be able to listen in on the disciples’ conversation en route to Capernaum? I can picture Peter, perhaps still stung by Jesus’ rebuke in last week’s Gospel, reminding the others that he was still in line for the top job! I can almost hear Andrew answer, “OK, brother, but don’t forget that I met him first, and I introduced you to him!” And John chiming in, “but I’m the one he’s closest to!” And, of course, Judas, “I’m the one he trusts with the money, without me where would you all be!”

Instead, the Gospel today [Mark 9:30-37] tells us that when Jesus asked what they had been arguing about, they were suddenly (and suspiciously) tongue-tied, and that Jesus, ever the teacher, took the opportunity to teach them a lesson.

Actually, this was the second time Jesus had tried to teach them what lay ahead. But they failed to understand.  In a world without power-point presentations and other such gimmicks, Jesus employed a child as his instructional aide.

Children induce all sorts of reactions in people. A baby is a sure attention-grabber in any gathering. Generally in our society, children are considered cute, innocent individuals, to whom we are expected to react positively and benevolently. 

But what is distinctive about childhood – and certainly what Jesus’ audience would have responded to – is not cuteness or innocence but rather the dependence and hence powerlessness, that go with being a child. Even rich children, as long as they remain children, are dependent on someone else to exercise power on their behalf. 

So, when Jesus wanted to teach his disciples what following him is all about, he pointed to a powerless child. In this way, he sought to teach his clueless disciples the paradox of the powerless Christ, who, in obedience to his Father, assumed our ordinariness as his own to meet us, in his economic and political poverty, where we are all at our most powerless – in the darkness of death, where all our obsessive human preoccupation with power and status, our aspiration to greatness and accomplishment, all come to nothing.

No wonder they found him hard to understand! It seems being a disciple means more than merely listening to Jesus’ words and possibly preaching them to others. No, it means being led, by him and with him, where he was led. It means leaving behind our perpetual preoccupation with power, wealth, and status, our aspiration to greatness and accomplishment, our competitiveness with one another and within our own selves - the passions that the Epistle of James [James 3:16-4:3] so strongly warns us about, causing us to covet but not possess, to envy but not obtain, to ask but not receive. From high school popularity contests to their imitations in our national political campaigns, it’s all about who’s up and who’s down, who’s in and who’s out.

   

In contrast, Jesus challenges us to come to know Christ with the powerless. He invites us to compensate for our own limited moral experience by paying attention – difficult as that may be - to the experiences of others, others whose lived reality of poverty or other forms of powerlessness (homeless people, for example, maligned and defamed immigrants, for another) can cut through our comfortable self-understanding and teach us something new, expose us to realities and insights we would not otherwise be exposed to.

Good teacher that he was, Jesus did not totally denigrate the ambition of his disciples. Instead, he gave them a new definition of greatness to aspire to. “If anyone wishes to be first, he shall be the last of all and the servant of all.” 

That can be quite frightening, even threatening. Certainly, it scared the disciples. And it scares most of us most of the time, which is why we tend to pass over it as quickly as possible in search of some more “upbeat,” ostensibly friendly message, as if the point of Jesus’ life were to affirm us and our way of life. 

But this ultimately this is the challenge of a becoming a disciple – for all Christians from first to last.

 

Homily for the 25th Sunday in Ordinary Time, September 22, 2024, Saint Paul the Apostle Church, New York.

Cats and Dogs

It is a challenge to keep up with all the lies Donald Trump and his sidekick J.D. Vance have been promoting. Some of them especially stand out - both for their absurdity and for their potential for danger to real innocent people. One such is the bizarre claim that Haitian immigrants in Springfield, OH, are eating people's pets. On its face, of course, the claim is absurd, almost comic - except for the fact that it is so dangerous. It is, in a sense, a contemporary American version of the classic anti-semitic "Blood Libel." 

The so-called "Blood Libel" was an antisemitic canard, which falsely accused Jews of murdering Christians (typically Christian children) in order to use their blood in the supposed performance of certain religious rituals. In modern America, where pets are often treated as children, the lie that Haitian immigrants, who are here in the U.S. completely legally and have settled in Springfield because there were jobs there, have been stealing and eating people's pets, performs an analogously perverse and dangerous function of dehumanizing and "othering" a group of people, whose only actual distinction is being originally from a different country.

The immediately primary problem associated with such lies is the danger its victims may find themselves in, as a result of inflamed public opinion at the most fanatic extremes. Obviously the safety of innocent Haitian immigrants in Springfield needs to be prioritized. Above and beyond all that, however, there is the broader and longer term problem of the complete coarsening of our culture. We have become a nation of enemies to one another, motivated more by hatred and grievance than anything else. Whatever else happens, however this election ends, we will long be struggling as a nation with the damage we have done to ourselves as a viable human community.

The Politics of Joy

 

The Democratic National Convention is over and done. Accepting her party's nomination, Kamala Harris hit a grand slam. It could hardly have been better. Or a greater celebration of American democracy at its glorious best.

Nor could there have been a greater contrast with the sorry spectacle a month ago in Milwaukee.

Who would have known a month or more ago that this was how it would be? Who would have known that, unburdened of what has been, the party would have been so united, so confident, so committed, so ready to fight the fight against MAGA darkness?

Kamala Harris and the Democrats in general had several obvious tasks - to introduce Kamala uniting her story with our American story, to explain and call out Trump's challenge to American freedom, national security, and international alliances, and to offer a vision of the future that is hopeful, patriotic, and strong in contrast to the other party's dark depressing weak and unpatriotic vision of American carnage. Not just Kamala's speech but the whole convention met the challenge to frame this campaign.

Unlike the personality cult convention in Milwaukee, the Democrats featured their former presidents and former candidates and their rising stars - AOC, Peter Buttigieg, Gretchen Whitmer, Hakeem Jeffries, and more.

But now comes the hard part, the campaign: Kamal for the People vs. Trump for himself, the party that loves and celebrates America vs. the party that denigrates America. That's a good frame for the campaign. But so divided and polarized is our country right now, thanks to nine years of MAGA darkness, this will be a very close election in which every vote counts, every voter counts.

Back To Chicago

Riding home from physical therapy on the crosstown bus the other day, I found myself humming Simon and Garfunkel's 1960s classic Sound of Silence - a great song, well worth humming anytime! Yet I had to wonder whether, somewhere in the recesses of my consciousness, the "Back to 1968" vibe increasingly associated with this week's Democratic convention may have had something to do with my humming that song so thoroughly associated with nostalgia for that tumultuous era.

As almost everyone who cares already knows, the Democrats are returning to Chicago for their convention this week. For all the reminders of and comparisons with 1968, the spell was actually already broken in 1996, the last time the Democrats convened in Chicago, the city which has actually hosted 26 national conventions, of which 1968 was something of an outlier, far from typical. That said, there are some noteworthy parallels between 1968 and 2024. Now as then, the sitting President has stepped aside in favor of the sitting Vice President, who has achieved the nomination without putting the country through the distortions caused by the now-routine primary process. Indeed, it was the unhappy 1968 experience which largely led to the institutionalization of the present primary process. Our accidental liberation from that ordeal this year could conceivably kindle a greater appreciation for the traditional convention system. although I suppose that's really just the political scientist in me talking! 

Of course, it would be a great thing to revitalize our diminished political parties, to increase the role of elected officials in choosing the party's nominee and diminish the role of ideological extremes and the power of money in choosing the party's nominee. We have just had a taste of how well that can work. But, again, that's probably just the political scientist in me talking! There is, sadly, little chance of it happening in reality!

Unlike 1968, however, the Democrats descend upon Chicago as a very unified party which is, as they say, in it to win it. Undoubtedly, there will be pro-Hamas protesters, making much more noise than their real numbers would warrant. The nominee has already answered them at a recent rally in Detroit, when she said "I'm speaking now." However obnoxious or embarrassing such protests may prove, they will be nothing like the protests that characterized the 1968 convention, which (while probably also representing less than a majority in the party and the country) really did represent a sizable minority, both in the party and in the country. Whatever their other divisions, Democrats today are largely united in their effort to save the country from anti-democratic authoritarianism and end the Trump threat. That represents a world of difference from the disastrously fractured party of 1968.

Tonight, President Biden gets to speak. I believe it was Harry Truman who was the first sitting president not seeking re-election to speak at his party's convention. That was in 1952. Then Eisenhower did it in 1960, Reagan in 1988,  Clinton in 2000, Obama in 2016. (Notably, LBJ did not attend, let alone address, the Democratic convention in 1968.) It is only right and proper to honor Biden tonight, to honor his long career of public service, to honor his historic accomplishment in ousting Trump in 2020, and to honor his legacy of presidential accomplishment, the most consequential presidency probably since LBJ's.

And then it will be time to turn the page and look to the future. Nostalgia has limited purchase in politics, particularly right now when the degree of disillusionment with politics-as-usual has reached such significant heights. The choice this year is between the particularly dystopian future symbolized by Project 2025 and an as yet incompletely articulated more hopeful future, which it will be the convention's task this week to present to the American people.

Weird, Weirder, Weirdest

There are lots of great things to say about Minnesota Governor Tim Walz and why he will likely make a phenomenal running mate for Kamala Harris. In addition to all of that, however, he has the added distinction of apparently having popularized the weird meme as an all-purpose descriptor for the strange, dangerous, and wildly out-of-the-mainstream views being propounded particularly by his now opponent, GOP candidate JD Vance.

Vance is not the only candidate for the weirdness accolade, of course. For pure, unadulterated weirdness, there is, for example, the strange episode of RFK, Jr., and the bear cub, which has only recently come to light a decade after it all happened. Bobby and the Bear may well be the single weirdest candidate story this election year. But RFK, Jr.'s star-crossed campaign has never really been anything other than weird.

Vance, on the other hand, having journeyed from anti-Trump elite literary darling to total subservience to his party's Dear Leader and a voice for increasingly weird ultra-MAGA on-line malevolence, is a far more interestingly tragic case - as well as potentially more threatening to traditional constitutional and democratic governance. And, while Trump in many ways represents a somewhat post-religious extremism, Vance highlights the increasing significance of pseudo-religious anti-constitutional, anti-democratic extremism.

Which is not to say, of course, that problems like the contemporary obstacles to family formation are not important issues, worthy of serious attention. Rather, their invocation by weirdly out-of-the-mainstream integralist and integralist-adjacent ideologies and sheer personal malevolence just further forecloses the kind of rational deliberation and democratic debate such issues deserve.